


"My hero wears Oxfords"

by Slenderlof



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Author/Actor AU, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:46:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slenderlof/pseuds/Slenderlof
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Alastair is the author of 'Kingsman', a Harry Potter level famous book series. James is the main actor for the books TV show adaption. </p><p>Shenanigans, love, terrible humour, weird friends and the media all make one modern age love story so much more than "Man meets man, they fall in love, they get married."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Of course I'm bloody interested!"

**Author's Note:**

> So, A) A insane amount of credit to Dolly-Bassett because without her this AU wouldn't exist, neither would some of my favourite lines!
> 
> B) A huge thank you for Borsival-Gives-Me-Life for beta reading and reminding me that, hey, apostrophes are a thing.
> 
> C) Any and all feedback both on here and my tumblr (Slenderlof) would be really appreciated!

**_Lancelot waited for his moment, watching Arthur turn his head to stare over his shoulder at the clouds. Quick as a flash, Lancelot made his move, switching the two glasses of amber liquid with the slight of hand only a magician or Kingsman could possess._ **

Alastair leant back from his computer screen, cracking his fingers to ease the stiffness that came with typing for hours on end. His pinkie had gone freezing cold, prompting him to sigh then focus on trying to move it and regain feeling via re-introducing the blood flow.

Despite having published his latest book 'Kingsman: Heavy crown', mere months ago, he was already being pressurized to write a new one to appease his ever growing fan base. If you'd have told the Alastair (As he addressed himself back then, before his Writing persona 'Percival' came into play) from ten years ago who wrote his novels on a beaten up notebook during his lunch breaks at the office, that his first book was going to span a huge series, well.

He'd probably have – not laughed thinking about it, more likely glared daggers and slammed his netbook shut actually – but the point is, he wouldn't have believed you.

Then 'Kingsman: Get ready for it' had hit stores. It was a sensation, hitting it off in multiple countries and flying straight to the times best sellers list. Fanart, cosplays, fanfiction (Alastair had read most of it, still keeps track of what the fans like the idea of, or didn't like -He wasn't going to do a Joss Whedon on them) all sorts of things based on his book had sprung up, and suddenly Percival was a household name for people across the world.

His next book had created a even bigger storm, people started to recognise him in the streets every now and then, He signed so many books he pulled a muscle in his thumb and ended up in a wrist brace. His editor yelled at him for that because it slowed down his book writing speed; then his agent, Merlin, had moved him to a different publisher, and the books had just got even bigger and more successful with each passing day.

Here we were, on the fourth book of the series, and people were calling it the new Harry Potter (Alastair had cut that newspaper article out and stuck it on his wall, he'd always held a fondness for those JK Rowling books) and demanding more. It was overwhelming, trying to keep up with the public demand for books. He'd quit his day job to focus solely on writing – probably the best decision he had ever made in his entire life when he looked back on it.

Alastair was interrupted from his reminiscing when his phone rang, the traditional old James Bond theme tune blasting out and startling him badly. Alastair didn't need to look to know who it was, sighing loudly and making a eugh sound. The picture on his phone showed Merlin, his agent and long time best friend, holding a puppy with a stern expression. Alastair snatched the phone up and slid the screen, shoving it between his ear and shoulder.

“What?” He asked, rather snappish, rubbing at his eyebrows and reaching for his tea. When his finger touched the mug he quickly withdrew, feeling that it was long gone stone cold.

“Someone doesn't sound in the best mood.” Merlin's Scottish brogue crackled a little over the phone line. Alastair frowned and got to his feet with a wobble, grabbing his cane in one hand, balancing the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he carried the mug out of his room, making a cautious beeline in the dark for his kitchen.

“Well no shit Merlin, I've spent the last four hours trying to write the scene between Arthur and Lancelot and I've achieved less than one paragraph of use.” Alastair complained down the phone, slinging his mug into the microwave and switching it on. He hated microwaved tea, but right now he just could not care less if he tried. For the love of god, he just needed caffeine and sugar.

There was a almost snort on the other side of the line from his agent. On his side, Merlin was sipping a glass of brandy and staring at his computer, a email from 'Suit & Tie' Productions – one of the worlds leading movie producers – smiling slightly behind his drink with a knowing look.

“I bet I can make your day a hundred times better in the next minute.” Merlin muttered, fighting to keep the grin out of his voice. Alastair rolled his eyes at his friends weird sense of enthusiasm and yanked his microwave open, pulling his cup out and taking a swig before pulling a face. Honestly, how people did that on a regular basis, he would never understand.

“I'm serious, you might want to sit down for this Alastair.” Merlin added. Alastair paused mid scalding sip and frowned, putting the cup down and removing his phone from his shoulder and holding it.

“Merlin, what's going on?” Alastair asked, a little worried. He wouldn't put it past Merlin to say he's got good news then drop the line that he's in hospital (He'd actually done that before. Alastair had driven for two hours during the night to go see him.) or some such bullshit.

Instead, Merlin cleared his throat and read, changing his accent to a slightly more articulate form and raising the pitch in his voice in a posh mimicry of Alastair's own accent.

“We at Suit and Ties productions would like to discuss adapting Percival's books to create a TV show based on the books. We would appreciate knowing if you were interested in such a arrangement.”

Alastair gasped, eyes widening in shock and forgetting to breathe for a few seconds. Holy shit – his work, as a TV show? Alastair didn't realise how quiet he was until Merlin was coughing loudly over the line to get his attention.

“Of course I'm bloody interested!” Alastair instantly replied, a smile breaking across his face as he pushed his glasses up his nose and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet; tea long forgotten as he did a little happy dance that he was very glad nobody else was seeing. He'd never normally do that, but holy fuck was this great news.

And that was how the whole thing started...


	2. "Alright, let's get crackin!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair meets the oddball cast chosen for Kingsman - and one man stands out like a nun on a skateboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, credit to Borsival-gives-me-life for Beta reading and Dolly-Bassett for helping create this fabulous AU!
> 
> Any and all feedback would be awesome!

“Percival!” Director Lee Unwin exclaimed, rushing across the room and grabbing Alastair's hand in both of his own; shaking hard enough to force Alastair's arm to move up and down like a limp noodle. When Lee finally let go of his hand,Alastair grimaced – it felt like it was going to bruise from Lee's tight yet vicious handshake.

 

“Call me Alastair.” Alastair replied, shaking his hand a little to regain its feeling as Lee nodded enthusiastically. He seemed nice enough, if a little over the top and far too enthusiastic for Alastair's usual crowd. Or lack there of – being a author meant working weird hours, and going out with friends without being bombarded by fans had recently started to prove challenging to Alastair.

 

“'M Lee, obviously. 'M tellin you, wait till you meet the cast n that bruv, the banter's unreal!” Lee grabbed his hand again and dragged him across the room and through a door, physically shoving Percival into the small room full of people. Alastair stumbled on the carpeting and only just caught his footing before he fell over, looking around the room with a critical eye at his soon-to-be-colleagues. He leant heavily on his cane, thankful he had brought it – Lee's enthusiasm would've literally knocked him off his feet if not.

 

A rather attractive looking man was draped across the sofa in the middle of the room, a already worn copy of the latest Kingsman book clasped in his slender hands. He was reading intently, not even tearing his eyes away from the book as the door burst open with a bang. A young, blonde woman was sat with her legs dangling daintily over his ankles at the end of the sofa; she waved a hand as Alastair walked in before going back to tapping away on her phone.

 

Next to her was a black-haired woman with prosthetic legs (Alastair noted happily they had actually cast a amputee to play the Valentine corp receptionist, he had been a little worried they wouldn't bother with it.)

 

Across the room, a older man in a prim suit was talking to a another older man, his hands neatly behind his back and posture perfect. The man he was talking to was chatting away in a terrible Irish accent, a can of coke clasped loosely in one hand. As his face caught the light, Alastair realised it was Richmond – Richmond was playing Valentine, but he'd been in several action films Alastair had watched over the past few years.

 

“Everyone, this is Alastair!” Lee announced, cutting above the chit chat of the group. There was a round of greetings from the acting cast in the room, along with smiles and waves. The guy laying across the sofa however, reacted very differently. His head snapped up to look at Alastair instantly, looking him up and down before jumping to his feet and bounding across the room.

 

When he got closer, Alastair noted the man looked vaguely familiar – that and the fact that he was wearing a “My hero wears Oxfords.” shirt; a line from the first book. It was a famous line, the one were the audience first got hinted at that Lancelot was actually gay. That line had taken months to perfect, so when it became famous among the fans and over-used on t-shirts like shrek and minions, Alastair hadn't had the heart to be sad or annoyed by it. In fact, he had the same shirt in black at home.

 

“I adore your books! Like, seriously, Lancelot is my favourite character ever. Oh, I'm James, should've started with that, but yeah.” The man rambled the whole lot in one breath, also grabbing Alastairs's hand and shaking it with enthusiasm to match Lee; Although he did seem to take Alastair's ability to feel pain into account so didn't do it bad enough to leave a bruise. James was smiling brightly; eyes practically sparkling when he looked at the author.

 

It was actually a little un-nerving, he had the same expression teenage fans had at signings before they stuttered and asked for a selfie or cried with happiness (Alastair never knew what to do I those situations, he just awkwardly patted their backs and offered them a tissue. He wasn't insensitive as such, he just had no clue what the fuck he was supposed to do with a 13 year old crying girl.)

 

Alastair looked around, a little flattered that James liked the book, and a little uncomfortable at the hyper-dog attitude the other man possessed. It rolled off James in waves, the very air surrounding him seemed to be static with energy and a expectation of energetic chaos. Everyone else ignored James in favour of their prior activities, so he guessed it was fairly normal behaviour from the man in question.

 

“I'm, uh, glad you like it.” Alastair said slowly, not entirely sure what to do. The other man just grinned, before ducking down and grabbing his book off the side table and clutching it to his chest for a second before holding it out to Alastair.

 

“Would you mind signing it? I've got the rest of the series signed, but I was in Austria when you signed this one.” The man held the book out, and across the room someone chucked a pen at him – Alastair thought it was Richmond, the guy playing Valentine, but he couldn't be sure. James caught the pen in mid-air, and Alastair was surprised he had such good reflexes. James gave a small, shy kind of grin and held the pen out as well. Suddenly Alastair realised why he looked familiar.

 

“Oh god, I remember you. You've been at literally every one of my South London book signings right?” Alastair blurted out. This was the guy Merlin kept telling him to get the number of every signing. Alastair, of course, dutifully ignored his agent and continued to sign the books and talk to his fans. But he did remember James, the attractive little puppy who was always three hours early to get near the front of the queue and nursing horrendous looking starbucks concoctions.

 

James' face lit up all the more as he nodded enthusiastically, seeming surprised Alastair remembered who he was at all. Alastair smiled; taking the book, flipping it open to the front cover and balancing it on one hand while simultaneously uncapping the pen in one fluid, well practised movement as soon as he let go of the book. After doing that action for so many years, it was practically second nature to him – as well as the easiest way to do it while one-handed.

 

At first Alastair had felt terrible, like he was defacing the poor books, but he'd long since got over that feeling. It was HIS work after all, and nobody ever thought it was bad that he signed them. He still felt a little guilty when he was handed pristine new books though, scrawling across them in his appalling, near-illegable handwriting. A swirling spiders web dancing across the page. Alastair had always hated his handwriting, so it was rather ironic people wanted it so much.

 

_'Dear James,_

_I look forward to working with you!_

_Percival.'_

 

He handed the book back, blushing a little when he realized everyone in the room was staring at them both as if expecting something to happen. Alastair looked over at Lee, who sensed his discomfort and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention focused on him.

 

“Alright, let's get crackin!”

 

 


	3. "Do shut up James."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few months on, and filming commences! James is a dirty-minded sod (as well as a terrific actor) And Alastair is just lingering around set trying to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously credit for Beta-reading to Borsival-gives-me-life and to Dolly-Bassett for developing the AU! And again, any feedback would be loved by me!

“I swear to god, if you touch him, I'll rip out your fucking throat.” James growled, blood trickling down his chin. He was tied to a chair by his ankles and wrists, hair greasy and lanky. It stuck to his forehead, clinging to the grime and dust coating James' face and shining slightly in the bright light. Behind him, a scene not far from a horror movie set. Chains and pliers lined the walls, along with rusting old knives and blood splattered aprons.

 

In front of James' face was a large camera rig, zoomed in close from the shoulders up. It caught the scene perfectly, James' anger and horror, the determination set in every line of his face and lingering in every ounce of his words. He looked directly into the camera lens with a stare so cold and full of hate that it sent a shiver down Alastair's spine as he watched the screen over the camera workers shoulder. Jamal – the camera operator, nodded at Lee.

 

“Cut!” Lee yelled, looking around with a pleasant smile. Everyone off set burst into a small flurry of action, like unpausing the TV. James took a deep breath, his signature smile sliding into place. The aura around him changed at the drop of a hat, anger and pain being replaced by ecstatic joy and a hyper vibe of someone who loved what he was doing.

 

Lee shoved Alastair to the side gently, getting Jamal to repeat the footage back to him. Alastair moved easily, shoving his hands in his pocket and stepping a few feet away. James really was insanely talented, the way his entire being seemed to shift at any moment it was called on.

 

Satisfied with the footage, Lee nodded and gave James a thumbs up. “Okay, that's a wrap for today!” Lee yelled across the set. Everyone released a breath and people began to potter around, cleaning up and moving equipment around. Tilde, one of the interns, rushed onto the set, untying James' arms from behind his back. James rubbed at his wrists when they were free, shooing Tilde away from him to go help Eggsy with something and leaning down to his own feet. He seemed to struggle; unable to see the knots from the angle he was bending.

 

Alastair took pity on the actor, walking onto the set. He propped his cane against James' leg and knelt down, partially between James' legs as he reached around them to untie the knots. James snorted above him, finding something hilarious.

 

“I never thought I'd see the day I got Percival between my legs.” James teased. Alastair rolled his eyes but didn't look up at James, continuing to work at the tight knots – Honestly, was Tilde a girl scout? These things were fucking stuck together like super glue.

 

“Do shut up James.” Alastair replied smoothly, fingers working at the rope with deft movements and hair brushing against the actors thigh. “I'm not down here to give you a blow job- but if you want one, I'm sure all you'd have to do is tweet that fact.” James had a large twitter base and some very active fans, but Alastair was only half-teasing.

 

Saying he didn't fancy James would be lying to himself; James was smart, attractive, funny and just so damn open minded. Not to mention extremely bright and a advocate for pretty much every civil movement Alastair could think of. In truth, Alastair realised months ago with a blush that he was harbouring strong feelings for the actor currently seated above him.

 

Great.

 


	4. "No need to jump, I don't bite."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more banter happens between Alastair and James, and it's all tumblrs fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Dolly-Bassett for helping create the AU as usual, and any feedback would be awesome!
> 
> On a different note, this wasn't a original chapter, I just decided to add it in recently to avoid what I feared to be a rather large jump. 
> 
> //Yes, I am also aware that's not the official ship name//

Alastair pulled his phone out of his breast pocket, eyes darting between Roxy and Eggsy interacting on set for some filler scene and his phone screen. Clicking on one of the small blue icons, Alastair's tumblr started to load up, screen lighting up with pictures and quotes and god knows what else, all of it based on Kingsman. He followed 5,000 blogs on his tumblr, and all of them were part of the Kingsman fandom. To be fair, he would follow more if it wasn't for the damn following limit.

 

It wasn't that he was big headed or liked to see his work, Alastair just wanted to see what kind of things the fans liked, the ideas they came up with, that sort of thing. It was helpful to have such a great insight into the mind of his fans like that – and it let him interact with them without needing to use face to face social skills, which was always a bonus in his book. People skills were not his best suit.

 

“Why's my face on your phone?” James suddenly asked, appearing out of the blue to lean over the back of Alastair's chair and resting his head just above Alastair's shoulder. Alastair jumped, heart leaping out of his chest in shock – he hadn't known James was even in the room. James snorted at Alastair's reaction, walking around the side of his chair and dragging his own chair over.

 

“No need to jump, I don't bite.” There was a second pause after James spoke before the actor made a show of looking Alastair up and down extremely slowly, eyes lingering on Alastair's face playfully before adding “Unless you want me to of course.” James laughed lightly afterwards, winking as well.

 

Alastair fought back a blush and glared at the actor, assuming James didn't mean it. He was always saying stuff like that to Alastair; everyone just chalked the flirting down to James being James, he did it with his best mate come co-star Harry Hart too, and with Lee, Roxy and Eggsy. Yet, Alastair always seemed to get it most often out of the four. Hell, he got it more than the three combined.

 

“It's my tumblr feed, it's not just you, it's all Kingsman material, so don't flatter yourself.” Alastair muttered. James shrugged and leaned across the chair, bracing his forearms on the arm of Alastair's to watch him scroll down his feed, James staring at the small blue screen with interest. Alastair saw a post he remembered from the other night and quickly tried to scroll past it, hoping not to have James see it.

 

Sadly, luck wasn't on Alastair's side. James moved his hand, brushing his finger against the side of Alastair's arm to get his attention. “Go back up.” Alastair complied, mentally cursing that post for existing.

 

The picture was of James and Alastair half-hugging from several months ago. James had just got back from a three day trip abroad to visit his old professor. Arnold was dying of cancer, and James had wanted to see him again before Arnold kicked the metaphorical bucket. When James got back he had been a emotional wreck all week, hugging every member of the cast and crew several times a day and crying on a regular. Apparently Arnold had been really important to James, they used to stay in a old log cabin together in the Alps over Christmas.

 

Underneath was a caption in all capitals, bolded and put in italics, as well as highlighted and literally made as obvious as was possible.

 

#SPENCIVAL 2K15

 

“What on earth is Spenca-specivi-spenci-” James asked, trying to pronounce the new word and failing miserably like a young child learning the alphabet. It was adorable, and Alastair was distracted for a moment as James screwed up his nose after his third failed attempt at pronunciation.

 

“Spencival. It's, uhm, a ship name for you and me.” Alastair admitted, trying to scroll away from the post and avoid talking about such a awkward subject as fans shipping him with his crush – especially to talk about it with said crush, that was just painful.

 

James swallowed hard, scrolling back up and clicking on the Spencival tag in a silence that was almost eerie for the actor. When it finally loaded, the screen was filled with all sorts of ship material, the first thing coming up being very detailed drawing of them hugging and – oh wait, no, make that a pornographic drawing actually. Alastair fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, side-eyeing James to watch his reaction carefully.

 

James stared at the picture for several seconds before grinning that mad grin of his, looking over at Alastair. Alastair steeled himself for any kind of reaction, from a slap to laughter. Some people took this stuff badly at first, but James didn't strike him as someone to be offended by fan material like Chester was.

 

“I'm flattered by how defined my abs are.” James finally said, snorting and zooming in on the perfect six-pack he had been given in the doodle. He didn't even comment on the nature of the drawing, just the abs he had been given.

 

“Although if that's what your hiding under your suit...” James trailed off suggestively, making a show of looking Alastair up and down once more, biting his lip in a humorous way. Alastair relaxed minutely, glad that hadn't seemed to gross James out at least. Handing the phone off to James, Alastair reached for his water bottle, taking a sip and looking over at the actors filming across the room for a way to avoid looking back at James just yet.

 

“Although, no offence, but I'm so a top.” Alastair spluttered water everywhere as James spoke, attempting to cough quietly so he didn't disturb the scene being filmed. James thumped him on the back, laughing more at his own words then Alastair's reaction. When Alastair was no longer chocking on water, James spoke again.

 

“What, wanna top me instead?” James grinned and Alastair coughed again, blushing and looking away with a hiss of “James, we're in public!” Getting up and walking away before James could say something else (and to get something to dry his spilt water from his suit with). James watched him go, the fact that he was so watching Alastair's ass going completely unknown to the author.

 

Alastair knew he was only kidding, and it, well, it actually hurt a little bit. He knew James was bisexual, but everyone in the world knew that. James wasn't exactly quiet about his support for the queer community – hell, he was 'paints self like a rainbow and gives a speech as he leads a LGBT+ march' level out.

 

Alastair however...not so much. Apart from directly family, the only people who knew his preferences were Merlin (but he knew everything about Alastair, right down to the brand of his underwear) and Lee knew too – he'd cornered Alastair and literally just said “You're gay, you can't even deny it.”

 

James finally tore his eyes away from Alastair's behind and looked back at the phone that had been left with him. After a moment, James shrugged and casually scrolled further down the feed, seeing a link to something called a 'fanfic' on AO3. James clicked the link out of curiosity, starting to read and – _oh, right, okay, that was graphic._

 

 _Oh well,_ James thought, _it's better written that fifty shades of grey at any rate._

 


	5. "I am, in fact, very homosexual."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastair's sexuality comes out, as does a show of his kinder side with fans. For James, realizations and rude fans are on the way too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to Borsival-gives-me-life for beta reading, and Dolly-Bassett for the AU!
> 
> Feedback would be so, so awesome, as always!

The Kingsman cast and crew were sat behind a long white table on a stage, still answering fan questions after almost three hours.

 

“Hi, my questions for Percival?” A younger girl asked uncertainly. She was in a little pink wheelchair, paired with a bright pink shirt with a doodle of Roxanne from the books on it. She looked around ten years old, twisting her hands in her lap nervously as she spoke. Alastair gave her a small, kind-hearted smile and nodded, prompting her to ask away.

 

“I, uhm, know this kinda question's kind of, uhm, personal, but why do you use a cane? Sometimes you have one but sometimes you don't, why's that?”She asked, looking up at Alastair. Alastair grabbed the handle of his cane from where it was leant against his chair, momentarily lifting it into view above the desk for the benefit of anyone who hadn't noticed it before.

 

“Well when I was little, I was in a really nasty car accident. I completely destroyed by leg, shattered it all up inside, and now my balance goes funny a lot and my leg goes numb and gives out. I use the cane so I don't fall flat on my face.” Alastair admitted, trying to shrug it off and putting the cane back down. “I love your wheelchair by the way Miss, it's a lovely shade of pink.”

 

The girl blushed furiously and nodded, handing the mic back to the person taking it around the room and thanking them. When she looked back over at Alastair again, eyes darting over to him and face still stained red as she blushed. Alastair smiled at her again and winked before turning his attention back to the next person talking.

 

“James, do you feel the Kingsman books are over-done now? We're six books in and it's getting repetitive, and quite frankly, poorly written.”One of the reporters asked. James looked over down the panel at Harry Hart, rolling his eyes, before looking at the reporter in question.

 

Alastair darted his eyes away from the people watching and focused himself on his water bottle, fiddling with the label to avoid making eye contact. He was used to the criticism, but it was rather different to hear it said so bluntly in front of him than it was to see it posted on twitter in 140 characters or from someone whose blog description was 'welcome to my twisted mind'.

 

“I actually feel that's quite offensive of you to say – I'm sorry, but I do. Percival is a insanely talented writer, and his plots are as different and complex as anything else on the market. I adore all of the Kingsman books and they hold a lot of meaning to me, so no, I don't feel they're over-done at all.” James replied icily, venom in his voice.

 

Honestly, that was just plain fucking rude to ask. The panel quickly moved on to another question from someone else, but James turned his head; eyes flicking to look at Alastair. His heart really went out to Alastair sometimes, he dealt with so much on top of his problems.

 

“My questions also for James. What was it like to play a gay character? Especially filming the sex scenes?” James frowned and moved his chair forwards, bracing his elbows against the table and looking at the questioner.

 

“It was nice to play him. Lancelot's character was a big thing for the LGBT+ community, so it was a honour to portray him.” James took a swig from his plastic water bottle before answering the rest of the question.

 

“As for sex scenes, they were great fun to film. Harry was hilariously funny, he kept slapping my ass and saying 'back to work old chap' and such before every scene.” The two actors shared a fond look while the rest of the crew, and most of the crowd, laughed loudly at stories of their antics.

 

“No, but seriously. It's nothing like actual gay sex, there's a crowd of people watching you for one, which I've personally never experienced,” This got another rise of laughter from the crowd. “and people telling you what to do and such. Really, it was quite entertaining. Not realistic at all, but still entertaining.”

 

From the back of the room, there was a shout of “How'd you know that?” followed by some more laughter. Gazelle in particular seemed almost on the verge of crying with laughter. Richmond leant over to check she was okay, still chuckling himself. Those two were kindred souls, James was positive of that.

 

James raised a eyebrow before calmly going. “Because I'm Bisexual, it's not like I've never got it on with a guy before.” The crowd erupted at the news, muttering that took a minute or two to quiet down enough for any attempt at controlling the crowd could be made. When it did, Lee took over talking.

 

“To be honest, I think me, Gazzie and Richmond are the only straight cast members. James, Roxy and Eggsy are all bi. Percy and Harry are gay, there ain't many straight people left!”

 

Alastair frowned and leant over, whispering in Lee's ear. “Thanks for outing me there.” as the crowd erupted into new murmurs, this time sounding significantly less positive. Alastair shifted round uncomfortably and tugged at his cuff, pushing glasses up a slightly sweaty nose.

 

“I feel now would be a great time to mention I am in fact very, very homosexual, in case anyone thought Lee was joking.” Alastair leant into his microphone and addressed everyone, icy and formal, emotionless mask slipping into place as camera's snapped away. Just down the line, James' jaw was slack and his eyebrows raised as he looked at Alastair, shocked that, hey, he was gay. Well shit, so much for a no-hope crush, maybe he did have a small chance. At least, Alastair was single and gay, that was a start.

 

 


	6. "OhMyGodI'mSoSorry!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alastair finally get their shit together and things get a little hot under the collar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks to Borsival-gives-me-life for beta reading and Dolly-Bassett for the AU! Also as usual, feedback would be great!

A loud knock on the door drew Alastair's attention way from his laptop. He shut it gently, putting it on his bedside table and getting up from his hotel bed, forgoing the cane for the short walk over to the door and opening it a couple of feet, weary of who it was. The rest of the crew had gone out to a club a few hours ago, so Alastair wasn't expecting company. He was even more cautious since the other week a group of teens had come knocking, and he didn't wish to repeat the experience any time soon.

 

Instead of horny teens, James was stood there. Alastair's heart jumped a little as he took James' appearance in, a small amount of worry niggling in his chest. The TV star was sweating a fair bit, hair tousled and breathing a little heavier than normal. He couldn't help but feel a stir in his stomach, He'd always thought James looked especially attractive like that.

 

“Hey, can I come in?” James asked nervously, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little. But not like he did when excited, more like before big interviews or important action scenes. It was a bit fear, a bit nerves and a lot of worry about what was going to happen. Alastair's instant thought was that James had managed to piss someone off or something, or gotten some bad news about someone. Last time he was like this, Alastair had read on the news a day later that James' brother had been in a accident on a train track.

 

“Of course.” Alastair responded instantly, holding the door open for him. James rushed in, standing near the bed and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. When he walked past, Alastair could see it was another Kingsman shirt. This one featured the words 'Popping one's cherry.' and a cartoon cherry on it, paired with ratty tracksuits and converses. James seemed to constantly be wearing fandom merch from the shows he was in, but Kingsman was by far the most common. From shirts to phone cases and, on one memorable occasion, a massive hair bow.

 

“I hope I'm not disturbing you?” James asked. Alastair noticed he was talking faster than usual too, biting his lip after he had spoken and chewing on it like he was trying to stop from saying something else. Alastair shook his head from side to side, shoving his laptop into a bedside table draw and sitting down on his bed cross-legged, facing James with a rigid back and near perfect posture.

 

“Not at all, are you alright?” Alastair could hear the worry in his own voice clearly, and judging by James' expression he could hear it too. James didn't sit with him, continuing to stand and fidget uncontrollably with his poor threadbare shirt. James nodded in reply far too fast, eyes darting around the room and seeming to be looking anywhere but at Alastair.

 

“Ye-yeah, fine. Nervous.” He stuttered, biting his lip a little too hard. A small spurt of blood trickled out of the know cracked lip, and Alastair winced, jumping up to his feet then heading over to the bathroom. James wiped his lip roughly with his hand, not paying attention to the blood as he smeared it down his chin, eyes tracking Alastair's movements.

 

Alastair grabbed some toilet paper and walked back out, approaching James carefully. He'd never seen him act quite like this before, and he wasn't sure how James was going to react to anything he did. Silently, Alastair slowly reached up with the tissue, pressing it against James' torn lip and wiping away the blood. It wasn't really bleeding much, save for a tiny bit of red welling up, but it still worried Alastair, niggling in his stomach. It must hurt a little, and he didn't like the idea of James getting hurt at all.

 

“James,” Alastair said quietly, treading on eggshells. “Are you drunk?” James shook his head from side to side in a no gesture before Alastair had even finished the question fully.

 

“No, I didn't go out with the others.” James admitted, looking at the floor like he was addressing it. Alastair's brow furrowed in confusion, wondering where on earth James had actually been if he hadn't been getting smashed and drinking Harry under the table like usual. It did explain the old, worn clothing choice though.

 

“I was at the gym, needed to think some things over.” James clarified for him. Alastair nodded – James always went to the gym when he needed to work something out or if there was something bugging him badly.

 

“Well at any rate, be careful or it'll crack properly like last month.” Alastair scolded James half-heartedly, voice barely more than a whisper in sound. James' eyes darted around the room before he put his hand on Alastair's wrist, who made a move to lower his arm away from James' face; James didn't let go, instead opting to wrap his long fingers around Alastair's wrist in a loop, thumb and forefinger brushing each other.

 

“Okay, so, like, I was thinking that, like, maybe, you know, like,...Oh fuck it!” James moved forwards suddenly, shoving Alastair backwards and straight into the hotel wall. Alastair stumbled and almost fell backward – would've if it was not for James practically holding him up.

 

For a split second Alastair panicked, unsure what the fuck was going on, then James was using his other hand to grab Alastair's other wrist and pin both above his head, pushing them harshly against the wall and kissing Alastair fiercely. It was all done in a pretty fluid movement, clearly having been thought about by James for quite some time. Alastair couldn't deny he too had thought of them kissing, but most of his scenarios didn't involve his back being against a hotel wall and leg gone numb.

 

Alastair was essentially pinned against the wall, lips locked onto James' in a searing kiss. Alastair's brain took a second to kick in and function before he was kissing back with just as much force, craning his neck for a better angle. His glasses were sliding off his face but Alastair just couldn't bring himself to care right now.

 

When they broke apart, James instantly let go and stepped back, looking horrified.

 

“OhMyGodI'mSoSorry.” He stumbled across his words, eyes wide in shock at his own actions as he began to retreat away from Alastair like the author had slapped him or lashed out. Alastair just pushed himself off the wall, grabbing James by a fistful of his shirt and pulling him back in for another harsh kiss, tilting his head to get a better angle once more. Alastair was useless at standing right now, so he clung to James' shirt for support.

 

James responded immediately, one hand going to Alastair's jaw and the other looping around the authors waist. Alastair kept holding on to his handful of shirt in one hand, the other going to the base of James' neck. They stayed like that, kissing, until they needed to break apart for oxygen, panting heavily.

 

“Okay, not as bad a idea as I thought.” James huffed, gasping for air, refusing to let go of Alastair at all. Alastair didn't let go either, laughing at James and giving him another quick peck.

 

“We should talk about this.” Alastair muttered against James' lips, looking at him through his eyelashes and glasses. Despite his words, Alastair made no move to pull away. James nodded, staring at Alastair's lips intently.

 

“Yeah, we so should.” With that, James bodily pulled Alastair fully away from the wall and pushed him backwards across the room once more. Alastair's knee's hit the bed and causing him to fall back into a sitting position, mouth still locked with James'. James didn't break the kiss as he swung his legs over Alastair's body, sitting on the writers lap, essentially straddling him, pressing them both against each other.

 

Alastair moved a hand to the small of James' back, pushing him forwards so they were truly pressed chest to chest. Their lips broke apart again, both men trying to get their breathing under control.

 

In between breaths, Alastair muttered. “Or we could...talk....later.” He suggested, leaning back up for another kiss. James made a 'mhm' sound and the two resumed their prior activities whole-heartedly.

 

 


	7. "A dream caused by coffee deprivation"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alastair have to experience the morning after, and Merlin makes a comeback to annoy Alastair once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //Note: Updated version//  
> As usual, thanks to Dolly-Bassett for the AU, and to Borsival-gives-me-life for beta reading!

 

James woke up groggily, blinking against the harsh light from the wall lamp. It took him a minute for his eyes to adjust, but when they did and he looked down, he freaked out internally. He was laying on his back, legs entwined with Alastair's and a numb arm, no doubt under the writer, who was laying across James' chest while still fast asleep. James' head ran through last night, from turning up after his run, to coming into the room and - oh right.

 

Alastair stirred against him, making a small groaning sound and looking up, eyes unfocused. Alastair rubbed blearily at one eye, the other hand reaching out and patting at the bedside table. James guessed he wanted his glasses, and picked them up, pressing them into Alastair's hand. He smiled in thanks and put them on, sitting up. The muscles in his torso stretched as he sat up, the early light defining every curve.

 

Alastair was adorable, hair sticking up at all different angles and glasses over half-closed eyes. He looked at James, tilting his head to the side like he was trying to decide about something. Eventually, Alastair hesitantly shuffled backwards a little more. James used that space to sit up himself, leaning against the headboard of the hotel bed.

 

“Did last night actually happen, or was that a dream caused by coffee deprivation?” Alastair asked sceptically, stretching a arm above his head. A small twinge of pain bloomed up his lower back, and his shoulders were stiff as he stretched them. James stared, a little distracted, before snapping back into the now with a slightly more dry throat.

 

“I'm really, really hoping it did.” James looked at Alastair, grinning cockily at him. Alastair rolled his eyes fondly before stifling a quiet yawn against the back of his hand. James decided that Alastair really was adorable, especially when he had just woken up in the morning.

 

“Either way, I do think we should actually talk about it.” Alastair replied, sitting back a little and going to cross his legs before stopping, feeling the cold air hit his chest and legs. He shivered.

 

“Agreed. Would you be opposed to talking about it over breakfast though?” James asked, the idea popping into his head first. Seeing Alastair shiver, he automatically shifted under the blankets so Alastair had some, wrapping it around the author as he moved. Alastair smiled at James and pulled it tighter around him, hands balling into fists in the white fabric.

 

“Not at all, but I want to shower first if you don't mind?” Alastair asked, glancing over at the still ajar door to his en suite. James nodded, standing up and pulling on his clothes from the previous night, forgoing shoes and socks – instead choosing to hold them and walk barefoot. Alastair watched him with interest, eyes going to a few of the bigger scars riddled across James' body with curiosity. He'd have to ask about them some time, fulfil the scars and lovers cliché.

 

“I'm going to go shower too, I'll come back here in twenty.” James replied, leaning over and crawling onto the side of the bed again, going to give Alastair a good morning kiss. He stopped just short of doing so, brain catching up to his actions as he wondered if that would be appropriate or even well received right now. Alastair answered the question for him by giving him a quick peck, shooing James off the bed afterwards.

 

James poked his head out of the corridor, looking for paparazzi or fans no doubt, before slipping out, waving goodbye as he went. Alastair collapsed back on his bed, groaning and stretching his body. A warm shower was definitely in order. He got up and pulled a shirt on, looking around for his phone. After three minutes of fruitless searching, Alastair finally found it – stuffed in his luggage surrounded by socks and last nights clothes. He pulled it out and plugged it in, firing off a quick text to Merlin.

 

_So I just slept with James._

 

Alastair dropped his phone on the bed and wandered off for a shower, scrubbing his hair with his shampoo bar and stretching out tensely sore muscles under the hot spray from the shower head. Alastair would be forever thankful that Lee was so picky about hotels, it meant they always stayed somewhere with a half-way decent shower, no matter what.

 

Alastair wrapped a fluffy towel around his waist and went back to his main room, eyeing the chaotic mess with annoyance before rummaging around in the draws for clean clothes. He was mid way through putting his sock on before his phone buzzed, screen lighting up with several messages he'd received from Merlin in the past ten or so minutes.

 

_WAIT WHAT_

_I WANT REALLY GROSS DETAILS THAT WOULD PUT EVEN E.L JAMES TO SHAME_

_Actually, your writing is much better than hers, but not the point._

_HEY, REPLY TO ME YOU ASS!_

_ALASTAIR ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!!!_

 

Alastair rolled his eyes at his friend and put his other sock on, alternating between texting and starting to put his clothes away in their draws.

 

_MERLIN FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CALM YOUR TITS_

 

his phone buzzed not even ten seconds after he sent the text, and Alastair grabbed at his phone to read the reply, a pair of boxers in one hand ready to be stuffed into his suitcase.

 

_Oh shut up. D E T A I L S_

 

Alastair's thumb flew across the screen as he typed one handed, practised movements. Merlin was still a faster typer, but Alastair wasn't far behind him in the race. (Literal race, they'd checked a few months ago out of sheer wonder.)

 

_He turned up real nervous, pinned me against a wall, we snogged, then had frankly brilliant sex. Woke up this morning feeling rough as a badgers ass, and now I've got to have breakfast with him to talk about it._

 

A knock at the door once again drew Alastair's attention away from texting Merlin, so he took his phone with him to answer the door, tapping away on it and clicking send without checking, hoping he hadn't made any spelling errors. He pocketed the phone and used that hand to grab his cane, ready to leave for what would no doubt be a interesting conversation.

 

_Going now, I'll upd8 you later_

 

 


	8. "Such a sap."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their night together, James and Alastair try to talk about it (And their hotel has shit coffee).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Dolly-Bassett for the AU, and agent-elaine for saying she was looking forward to this talk, since I was going to skip it until that was said.
> 
> Also, why Alastair's leg is playing up is up to you, but personally I'm blaming the no doubt energetic activities those two MurderPuppies got up to last night.

"So..." Alastair started to speak. He was sat at a small table in the darkest corner of the hotels dining room, half hidden behind a large potted fern plant. James was sat opposite him, hands firmly wrapped around his mug of coffee and shoulders hunched over.

 

"To be bluntly honest, I have no idea what to say. I don't, uhh, do this kind of thing often, Or at all. Ever." James said, fiddling with the fraying sleeve of his hoodie and nervously biting his lip till it was red and sore (and slightly swollen from last night, but they were btoh to blame for that.). Alastair was easily just as nervous, likely far more so, eyes darting around the room every few seconds as he hoped not to be noticed by either fans or paparazzi just yet. Them over-hearing this conversation would be his worst nightmare.

  
  


"I suppose the best way is to just be brutally honest." Alastair replied, stating the obvious, shrugging his shoulders slightly and taking a sip from his own cup of coffee. Black, no sugar or additives. Neither had food, appetites long gone when talking about such a sensitive subject. James nodded in agreement and let out a small, nervous, slight awkward chuckle.

  
  


"Words of wisdom." James muttered, voice laced with a small amount of sarcasm, letting go of his cup and taking a deep breath, calming himself visibly in doing so. Alastair noted it was what he used to do to get out of character when they were filming a particularly gruelling scene.

  
  


"I mean, while last night was lovely," James said slowly, and Alastair could practically hear the 'but' lingering at the end of that sentence, steeling himself for James to say he had no interest in doing it again.

  
  


Not that Alastair could blame him of course - James was a famous actor, a teenage heartthrob that could have half the world laying at his feet if the time ever arose. Alastair was some guy who got really lucky that he could write and had a gam leg and was shit at showing his emotions. Why anybody, let alone James, would settle for him would be a mystery.

  
  


James frowned, reaching across the table and taking Alastair's cold hands in both of his own, as if sensing the thoughts. Actually, maybe he could feel the worry and defeat that was practically rolling off Alastair, but either way.

  
  


"Oh, no, I didn't mean to suggest it was you!" James assured the writer frantically, rubbing the pad of his thumb in small circles on the back of Alastair's hand. Alastair nodded and looked away, eyes darting down to a suddenly very interesting stain on the floor.

  
  


"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply it was you doing anything." Alastair said instantly; completely misunderstanding why James was defending something. Alastair pulled one of his hands away from James (regretfully, he wanted the savour the feeling) to run it through his own still damp hair, stress showing in the action as Alastair tugged the ends.

  
  


"Hey, look at me Allie," James said softly, reaching out his now empty hand to gently tilt Alastair's face to look in his direction. Alastair took a few seconds before finally flitting his eyes up to meet James, surprised at the warmth they held.

  
  


"I like you, fucking hell, I really, really like you. Like, a awful lot." James admitted, not breaking eye contact and acting far braver than he actually felt in a attempt to comfort Alastair.

  
  


He looked so accepting of bad news, like being kicked to the curb was a normal thing for him, and it shattered James inside to even consider that happening to someone as smart and loyal and wonderful as Alastair - he didn't deserve it, ever. Nobody does of course, but especially not Alastair.

  
  


Alastair just nodded, not trusting his voice to stay steady (or work at all) right now, blushing but not daring to break eye contact with James as the actor ploughed on with what he was saying, not stopping for breath.

  
  


"I just, fuck I can't vocalize, I - Will you go out with me? Like, on a actual date date?" James asked, letting go of Alastair's face to take both of the authors hands again across the table, by now drinks long forgotten and rapidly cooling in the crisp morning air.

  
  


Alastair's throat dried up and he had to cough a few times before he was capable of responding properly. "I'd love to."

  
  


James grinned and looked around the room, seeing nobody was paying attention to either of them, his grin simply grew and he pushed his chair back a little.

  
  


"How about now? I know a quaint little coffee shop that sells stuff that puts this muck to shame." James suggested, nodding at the hotel coffee. Alastair shrugged and stood, tucking his chair in neatly behind him. As he went to take a step away from the tabl, Alastair's leg buckled and he lost his footing, falling to the side with a utterance of "Oh shit." As his hand darted out to grab his chair.

  
  


Strong arms wrapped around his waist, holding Alastair up so he didn't fall on the floor in a embarrassed mess. James just chuckled in the writers ear, hauling Alastair back up into standing position and draping Alastair's hand over his own shoulders. Alastair tightened and let James help him up, leaning on the writer as they began to walk away.

  
  


"For the record, I want to go get my cane before we go please, not that this isn't pleasant, but I'd like to not fall on my ass the second you let go of me." Alastair replied in a lighter, more joking tone, smiling at James without looking up from the floor as he focused on walking. James arm tightened minutely around Alastair's waist, moving a little closer to Alastair with each step they took.

  
  


"I could just not let go." James replied easily, and Alastair was surprised by how sincere he sounded, even as he lead them towards the elevator to go back upstairs to get said cane. Alastair grinned, raising a eyebrow.

  
  


"Never thought you'd be such a sap." Alastair teased, slightly out of breath as they stepped into the elevator. Alastair reached out for the bar on the side of the elevator to steady himself. As promised, James didn't let go, punching the button for Alastair's floor and standing far too close to Alastair to be publicly appropriate despite the leg issue at hand.

  
  


"Oh, you love it."

 


	9. "You're the Galahad to my Lancelot."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First 'I love you's' are said, James is a flamboyant stage baby, Alastair is so head over heels for his flouncy boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Dolly-Bassett and Borsival-gives-me-life! Feedback would be awesome, any things you want to see included?

“And the winner of this years best male lead in a TV series goes to...” It was six months since they first slept together, and now both were sat at a small table at some B rated award ceremony as the host trailed off, opening the blood red envelope slowly, create suspense that hung above the crowd; a umbrella of tension lingering above their heads.

 

Next to him at their table, James began drumming loudly, a grin plastered across his face and eyes dancing with anticipation. Around the room, several other people joined in the drum roll James had created – Including Harry and Eggsy over at their table across the room.

 

Roxy looked away from the two idiotic men she was sat with, meeting Alastair's eyes with a faux-annoyed smile on her pink painted lips. She rolled her eyes dramatically and stared at Eggsy for a few seconds, eyes flicking back to Alastair's as she pulled a face. Alastair shrugged his shoulder at her and turned his head back to the front at the host took a breath to speak.

 

“James Spencer, for his role as Lancelot!” The host beamed around the room and clapped into his microphone. A spotlight appeared, focusing on James as he honest-to-god squealed with delight and clapped his hands together; face a mask of childish glee. Alastair smiled softly at him, reaching the few centimetres between them and patting James on the arm to congratulate him.

 

James got to his feet gracefully and side stepped between Alastair and the table to go up to the front of the hall. His leg brushed against Alastair's as he passed, and sparked something inside the actor, his action a spur of the moment.

 

James leant down and put a hand on Alastair's cheek, kissing him gently. There was a 'oooo' sound from the surrounding crowds as they kissed, the heat of the spotlight bearing down on their stuffy suits as they kissed innocently, like nobody in the world was watching. After several seconds, James pulled away and grinned directly down the closest camera, even having the guts to wink, then hurriedly jogging up to the stage. He bound up the set of stairs in two large skips, flouncing across the stage like he was born for it. (To be fair, he probably was. Showing off seemed to be in that guys DNA or something.)

 

James shook the hosts hand energetically, accepting his award with a show stopping grin (You could see why he won smile of the year for three years running) and winking at the camera once more. He stopped in front of the microphone, looking over at the crowds of people waiting eagerly for his speech. James speeches were always hilarious, and he'd earned a name for it.

 

Last year at this particular award ceremony, he' won a award for playing a minor character who flew a plane the entire movie – He'd proceeded to make a paper aeroplane out of a table napkin and throw it across the room, hitting his co-star in the head with it.

 

“Uhm, hi. I know what you're all expecting from me today, but I'm afraid, for once, I'm not going to deliver. No pranks this time – health and safety risk after last years 'oh bugger I caught a table on fire' incident.” James began, twisting his hands together out of nerves before straightening up. The audience fell silent immediately, interest piqued at what was going to happen. Alastair's eyes narrowed behind his glasses with concern for whatever was going on. It was rare for James to be nervous on stage.

 

“I feel that, throughout the making of this show, I've got a lot of credit. I'm the main character, sure, but there are so many unsung heroes in this show. This is dedicated to my hero.” He looked over at Alastair and smiled softly, face clearly showing pure affection and love. Alastair knew his face must look much the same, a stage light illuminating himself and the table in front of him as Alastair grinned goofily up at his boyfriend, cheeks flushed red.

 

“Alastair, I wasn't sure how to sum up my feelings for you, so I'm doing it the only way I know how. Through cheesy old pop culture references.” There was a slightly ripple of laughter at that, as he pulled out a piece of horrifically creased bright pink paper and cleared his throat once more. Alastair put his head in his hands, face growing to a shade of beetroot as attention fell on him because of his sappy boyfriend.

“ Percival, You're the Morticia to my Gomez. The Scully to my Mulder. The Elphaba to my Fiyero. Well, you know, you're not a green witch, but still. Alastair, you're the Galahad to my Lancelot, and my life would never be the same if you hadn't waltzed into it with those absurd books and that pathetic excuse of a smile,” The hearts in their eyes were practically visible as James talked, and squeals could be heard from several people in the room.

 

“What I'm trying to say is that this is for you, you tightly wound fusspot." James paused for a second, his face torn as he debated if he should read the last part of his speech. It would be the first time he'd ever said it - well, in a non-joking way at least - and he was worried how Alastair would react. Before, in the spur of the moment, he though fuck it. 

 

"And, I love you as well.” James blushed crimson as he stepped away from the microphone and skipped back down the stairs two at a time. Around him, the crowd erupted into spontaneous applause and various sounds that implied the two men were somewhat adorable.

 

As he approached the table, Alastair dragged himself to his feet, face still red, leaning heavily on his cane and holding out a arm. James stepped into the offered arm and both men hugged each other tightly, spending a blissful moment as nothing but two men in absolute, sickeningly sweet love. The moment passed and they broke apart, settling back down in their seats. If they moved them slightly closer as they sat down, nobody commented.

 

"I love you too." Alastair whispered into James ear as they adjusted how they were sat.

 

The host began introducing the next category, the award for best female lead in a TV show, a slide show of photo's behind him as he began to talk enthusiastically once more. Alastair shuffled away from James in his seat so he could lean at a angle, wrapping his hands around James' upper arm and hugging it to his chest, head on James' shoulder. Neither said a word to each other, watching the host, but it was one of the most blissful moments Alastair could remember in a long, long time.

 


	10. "I wanna touch you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is a hyperactive bunny rabbit with a plan (I wonder if anyone can guess why he's nervous?) and Alastair has the good old fashioned sleeping schedule of like, every writer ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, credit to Dolly-Bassett and borsival-gives-me-life, and any feedback would be glorious!   
> //Side note: The song I used as the ringtone is 'Touch U' by Steven Joseph, and I highly recommend listening to it!//

_The barrel of the gun was smooth and cold against Lancelot's chin, digging into the flesh as the gun was pushed upwards. A small click sound told him the women had just turned the safety catch off, weapon primed and her sleek finger wrapped around the trigger. Fuck._

 

“I don't know if you can feel anymore, but I wanna touch you.” Alastair jumped in his seat, heart racing for a second at the sudden shock as his phone went off. The latest energetic song James had set as his own ringtone on Alastair's phone  blared out of the phones speaker somewhere to Alastair's right, buried deep underneath several pages of character information for the latest chick in his story, one of Valentines henchwoman. Alastair shoved the papers aside, grabbing for his phone.

 

His fingers finally closed around the cool touch screen and Alastair pulled it out, sliding the accept button and pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder.

 

“Good morning Allie!” James yelled down the phone loudly enough to hurt Alastair's ear drum. Alastair grimaced at the sound in his ear and got up out of his seat, pins and needles crawling up his legs from being sat still for so long as he wrote.

 

“James, it's like, what, 2am over there in Spain?” Alastair asked, glancing at his watch to work out the time. Was it really 1am already? Shit, where did the time actually go? Over the phone, James snorted at his boyfriend.

 

“That it is, but I was calling to tell you to go the fuck to bed.” James said cheerfully over the phone. On his side of the phone, James was stood outside on his hotel balcony; clad only in Boxers and a loose shirt (For once not a Kingsman shirt, this time it was a black shirt, thw words 'Loud and queer!' printed across the front in a glittery pink cursive font.) as he stared out at the city around him. It really was a beautiful view, especially at night.

 

“I appreciate the sentiment James, but I'm a fully grown adult.” Alastair frowned and wandered downstairs, flicking on the lights as he headed for the kitchen to make himself a drink. James laughed properly down the phone, throwing his head back and cackling. If Alastair didn't know better, he would think James had drunk a fair bit to be this giddy at 2am. Then again, he was a actual caffeine fuelled, hyper-active mess. Alastair's mess of course, but a energetic mess none the less.

 

“And a author, so you don't understand what a bedtime is.” James replied in a near-deadpan, imitating Merlin with a terrible Scottish accent. Alastair rolled his eyes and pulled the fridge open, grabbing a carton of apple juice and shaking it viciously. It took him a few attempts to open the carton with one hand, but he achieved it.

 

“Touche.” Alastair replied before taking a large swig directly from the carton. He pulled a face, realising too late what he had actually picked up. Alastair wrinkled his nose and took another swig anyway – he'd brush his teeth in a second anyway.

 

“Anyway, I actually have a reason for making you sleep.” James added, grinning on his end and leaning over the bannister. “I'm coming home tomorrow!”

 

Alastair froze before a large smile bloomed across his face. James had been away filming some modern day my fair lady in Barcelona for the past fortnight, and Alastair had been missing him like crazy. It happened a lot – James going off to some country for a month or so. To be fair, it was probably a good thing in some ways, it gave Alastair time to focus on his writing while he was gone.

 

“That's great love!” Alastair replied enthusiastically. James nodded on the other end of the phone, heading back in through the French doors. As he lost the cool wind outside, nerves began to jiggle around in James' stomach as he thought about what he was planning for tomorrow. He'd had a epiphany of sorts while filming out in Barcelona, and (after calling Merlin about it and having a five hour skype call with his best friend and Kingsman co-star Harry Hart) James had come to a decision about their relationship.

 

“I know! But, this is going to sound a bit weird, but could you meet me at Gatwick airport at 10? I'll text you the flight details?” James asked, stomach flipping. Alastair grew confused, slowing as he put the carton down and turned to lean against the wall.

 

“Of course I can love. Is everything okay?” Alastair asked, mind starting to worry. He had no idea what could have gone wrong, but knowing James something bad had happened and he was trying not to worry Alastair for as long as possible.

 

“No, not at all!” James replied just a little to fast, flinching afterwards as he realised how fake he sounded. He was a actor for fucks sake, yet he had no control over his damn voice sometimes. He cleared his throat and powered on. “I'm fine, but I've got to go. You go get some sleep.” James ordered.

 

Alastair was still confused, but slowly agreed. Whatever it was, he just had to trust James evidently. Which he did, of course.

 

“Sure, you too. I'll see you later.” Alastair muttered down the phone. There was a small scuffle sound before James was nearly whispering down the line, voice containing something Alastair couldn't quite place because of the shit connection.

 

“See you later.” James paused, biting his lip. “I love you Allie.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

The line clicked once as James hung up, leaving Alastair alone with his own thoughts and worries for his boyfriend. Previous plans long forgotten, Alastair near-jogged upstairs to his laptop, saving his file twice more and opening up google. 'James Spencer.' Alastair's fingers flew across the keyboard as he googled his partners name, clicking on the news links. There was no bad news from James online, so Alastair relaxed sightly, tension leaving his body. If it was serious, the news would have reported it somewhere by now.

 

That done, Alastair went through his bed time routine, climbing into the double bed and shifting. He wasn't used to having the space any more, missing the warm body that was usually next to him. The author tossed and turned, falling into a slightly unsettled sleep for a few hours.

 

Over in Spain, James ran a hand through his hair and continued tossing things into his suitcase. His green suit was left hanging in the closet, pristinely ironed and hung to keep it crisp and neat. Alastair had brought him that suit for his birthday, and it had quickly became a staple for any time James needed a suit. With the other stuff packed, James settled into his own uncomfortable slumber.

 


	11. "I wrote the fucking proposal."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two dorks get proposed, Everyone but Percival seemed to already know about it - and Percival does too really, in a round-a-bout kind of way at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, credit to Dolly-Bassett for the AU and borsival-gives-me-life for being my beta! 
> 
> Serious note: Any feedback would really help right now, I'm hoping to expand this AU in other fics, anything you guys want to see some more about?

Alastair strut through Gatwick airport at 9:50, darting around other people in his favourite grey suit. James had asked him to wear it, and Alastair had complied without question. He was guessing the media must have got wind of the cast of my fair lady all coming into the airport today, because the place was crawling with photographers and journalists. Alastair kept his head down and ducked around, free hand in front of his eyes to keep from being recognised. The last thing he wanted was to miss James when he came out of the gate because he was posing awkwardly for some news person. Honestly, he was only a writer, not James fucking Bond or something stupid.

 

Alastair stood to the side of the gate as the cast poured out of the doors, all in different states of dress. Michelle (the lead) was leading the pack out of the gate, James flanking close to her right side in his favourite suit. As they walked out, James craned his neck, looking for his boyfriend. He searched the crowds in vain, before a movement to the side out of the way of the reporters caught his eye. Catching sight of him, a huge grin plastered across James' face.

 

Alastair had his arms crossed across his chest, foot and shoulder blade against the terminal wall behind him. He lifted one hand slightly to give a partial hand wave to his partner. James muttered something to Michelle, who gave him a pat on the back, before James was bounding off to Alastair as fast as he could.

 

A few feet away from his boyfriend, James dropped his bag and threw himself at Alastair. The force threw Alastair back a few feet as he stumbled, but he wasn't in the mood to care. Instead, the author buried his face in the crook of James' neck and hugged his tightly. James hugged back, kissing Alastair's hair and smoothing a hand down down Alastair's back.

 

“Welcome home.” Alastair muttered into James' neck, kissing his jaw softly and squeezing a bit tighter right before he let go. James blushed a little, offering the crook of his arm to Alastair. Alastair hooked his arm through James and clung close to the actors side as they wove around the people, James leading the way. Instead of heading for the exit, James pulled him off towards another gate, leaning down to whisper into Alastair's ear.

 

“So I actually arranged for us to do something today...” Alastair looked at James questioningly, but the actor only grinned, flashing his teeth and pulling Alastair through the gate, waving to a member of staff as they went.

 

Ten minutes later and they were being led onto a aeroplane, a fancy kind of private jet. Alastair was curious as ever, and felt a very small tingle of deja vu, but he had no idea why. He focused quietly on trying to work it out as James prattled on to the staff about this and that.

 

The woman nodded and walked off into the cockpit, taking a seat next to the pilot and closing the cabin door behind her, leaving James and Alastair alone in the main cabin. James grinned and put a hand on each of Alastair's shoulders, pushing him down into one of the seats and clipping the belt for him, before collapsing in the seat next to Alastair and putting in his own belt.

 

“Not that this isn't lovely and all, but what the fuck is going on James?” Alastair asked, curling up into James' side. James wrapped a arm around Alastair's shoulders, crossing his legs daintily. Alastair tucked his feet underneath under his thighs and leant against James, one hand gripping lightly at the front of James' shirt.

 

“I wanted to show you how much I love you.” James said simply as the plane took off to the sky. Alastair still had some sense of suspicion niggling in the back of his mind, merging with the still present deja vu. He dismissed the feelings, turning his head to kiss James gently.

 

It was sweet and innocent, carrying Alastair's non-verbal response to James comment. James responded, tightening his arm and peppering kisses across Alastair's face. Alastair wrinkled his nose playfully and James laughed, tapping Alastair's nose with his finger.

 

They stayed like that, giggling like drunk school kids and kissing each other, for several minutes. The flight path evened out, and James looked at the clock, unwrapping his arm from Alastair and getting up. Alastair began to get up too, when James pushed him back down into his seat.

  
“Stay, I'll be right back.” James promised, putting a hand on Alastair's chest to keep him in his seat for a second. Alastair complied, and James went across the plane, coming back with two drinks and another piece of horrifically bright pink paper. It was worn and wrinkled, some hand-written thing on paper that looked on the verge of falling apart. Silently, James put the drinks on the table and sat on the edge of the seat opposite Alastair's.

 

“I'm not the best at words Alastair, so I, uhm, thought this might be easier...” James trailed off, unfolding the paper even though he knew what it said by heart. Alastair mercifully stayed silent, watching through his glasses with curiosity.

 

“Alastair, we've been through hell and back – quite literally sometimes. But no matter what, we've scraped through it together. You're the light of my life, the bullet in my gun and the rational voice in my ear that goes 'Don't even think about it.'”

 

Alastair froze like a dear in headlights as he recognised what was going on. James sensed the change in atmosphere instantly, but carried on reading like nothing had changed.

 

“You're everything I never knew I wanted – I needed. What I'm trying to say here I guess is...” James screwed the paper up in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder, sinking onto one knee and looking Alastair directly in the eyes.

 

Alastair was crying silently behind his glasses, smiling down at James like he was the best thing that could ever exist. James reached up and wiped a stray tear off of Alastair's face with his thumb, voice going unbearably sweet and emotional, fighting back his own tears.

 

“Will you marry me?”

 

James took one of Alastair's hands in both on his own, looking up with a nervous expression. Alastair grinned behind the tears and put his other hand onto James' cheek.

 

“Of course I will, do you even need to ask?” Alastair's delivery of the line was flawless as he too sank onto his knees on the floor next to James, rather overwhelmed by the whole situation. James grinned and pulled Alastair into a long, passionate kiss, putting how he felt behind it – raw emotion bleeding out from the couple as they embraced each other on the plane floor.

 

When they pulled apart, Alastair was laughing slightly, holding onto James' hands for dear life.

 

“I can't believe you just mimicked the proposal I wrote between Lancelot and Galahad...” Alastair muttered, delighted. James laughed with him, giddy with happiness, both men laughing until their chests hurt. After a few gaspy breaths to gain his ability to talk once more, James choked out “You responded with Galahad's response too!”

 

Alastair sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Of course I did you sod – I wrote the fucking proposal.”

 

James just grinned, pulling his fiancé into another heart-warming, sickly sweet kiss.

 

 


	12. "What the actual fuck?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The media continue their long tradition of being shit stirrers, Harry needs loving and Percival is so done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people mentioned wanting Harry, so he's got a brief lil bit in this one! If you've got any other suggestions, just hit me up (Slenderlof.tumblr.com)   
> As always, thanks to Dolly-Bassett and Borsival-gives-me-life for their help!

 

“Cause I'm a hot mess and I'm falling for you,” James groaned and wrenched one eye open, glaring at his phone with distaste. It was blaring Hot Mess for to loudly, disturbing him from his well needed sleep. Against his side, Alastair moaned as well and shuffled a little closer to James – dead blind without his damned glasses.

 

James smiled and kissed the top of Alastair's head in a good morning gesture as he reached across the author to snatch up his phone from the side table. Sliding the unlock button, James dropped back against his bed post and shoved the phone up against his ear.

 

“Wadda ya want Harry?” James grunted down the phone, still half-asleep and fighting back a yawn. Honestly, it was 6am, what the fuck was Harry calling him for – did he not get the concept of sleep?

 

There was a pause of the other end, accompanied with a small sniffle sound. James sat up in his bed, covers pooling down around his waist, on high alert. Harry never sniffled, even when he had man flu, he never sniffled like that unless:

 

“Are you crying?” James asked, all traces of annoyance gone, his voice dripping with worry instead. Next to him, Alastair also sat himself up, hands scrambling against the bedside table in a search for his glasses. Finding them, Alastair scrunched up his nose as he pushed the cold frames onto his face, looking at the phone with worry.

 

At the same time as Alastair moved, Harry nodded on his end. “I'm afraid I am. I'm terribly sorry to disturb you so early James, but do you,uh,” Harry's voice wobbled and he paused to take a calming breath. “Do you think you could come keep me company?” James looked over at the clock on the bedside table then flicked his eyes to Alastair. Alastair gave a small smile and nodded, making a shoo gesture with one hand to non-verbally give James the heads up that he didn't mind him going.

 

“I can be there in twenty minutes if need be?” James offered down the phone, throwing off the covers and barely reacting to the cold morning air as he stood, speed walking to his closet and throwing open the doors. Alastair watched his partner and strained his ears – he wasn't meaning to eve strop, he was just worried about Harry. He'd grown close to the older actor while filming had taken place, and they had a great sense or chemistry between them. (Harry had also convinced Alastair to write some stuff in his later novels, such as the quote 'manners maketh man' and lighter grenades.)

 

“That'd be,” Harry's voice cracked and he cleared his throat to try and control it again. “Please, do tell Alastair I'm sorry to drag you away.” Harry added down the phone, ever the polite one. James turned to the bed, one leg in his trousers as he hopped around trying to get the slacks on, to relay the message.

 

Alastair spoke before James could, having heard Harry over the phone. He spoke loudly, addressing Harry. “S'alright Harry, you feeling okay's more important.” James face softened as Alastair spoke those words. They comforted Harry slightly on his end, a reminder that he wasn't being a huge nuisance to the couple by calling. He had to give it to Alastair, he was so accepting over Harry and James bizarre relationship.

 

There was a click as the phone line disconnected, and Alastair looked at James as he struggled with a shirt – his 'my hero wears Oxfords' one actually. Alastair didn't get out of bed, just watching quietly, elbows propped up on the side of the bed.

 

When James had finally managed to get his clothes on the right body parts, he rushed over to the bed and gave Alastair a long kiss, the only thing he had done all that morning that hadn't been rushed. Alastair kissed back sweetly, running a thumb down James' cheek and stroking his cheekbone.

 

James eventually pulled away, heading for the door. As he reached it and pulled it open, James turned to look at Alastair; body half facing the bed and his partner, one foot already out of the door.

 

“I love you.” James reminded him, blowing a kiss in Alastair's direction. The author rolled his eyes at James but still smiled none the less at the cheesy show of affection.

  
“I love you too. Now go make sure Harry eats something and doesn't drink too much.” Alastair shooed his fiancé away again. James nodded and left, shutting the door with a small click behind him as he went.

 

As soon as the door shut, Alastair pulled out his phone, snapping a quick picture of himself. He grinned blearily at the camera, hair sticking up a little and a tired grin on his face. His left hand was spread across his face in a mock-tired look. Lately, Merlin had been telling him to be more open about his life, including setting up a Instagram for Alastair to post pictures on.

 

Alastair used that Instagram, posting the photo with a little caption 'All by myself today, maybe I'll finally nail chapter 8 of #Kingsman6.' and posting it before rolling over in bed to lay back down, snuggling under his covers and trying to go back to sleep for a few more hours.

 

 

 

 

Alastair woke up again three hours later. The bed felt too large for him, and Alastair felt far more awake then earlier that morning. With a loud yawn, the author threw his legs over the side of the bed and scrambled to his feet. His feet padded across the wooden floor as he made his way downstairs, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. Once he'd put the kettle on, Alastair went to check his phone, only to find all of his notifications for social media's had gone completely haywire. What the fuck?

 

Perching carefully on the counter top, kettle inches away from his hip, Alastair decided to go on the news first, clicking the app almost nervously.

 

“Oh god, we're fucked...”

 

On the front page news for gossip was a picture of James hugging Harry tightly outside Harry's house, engagement ring clearly visible on his left hand since it was splayed across Harry's back. Underneath was a caption about James and Harry being in a secret relationship.

 

Gut tightening uncomfortably, Alastair clicked on the article, skim reading as he scrolled down. He stopped dead as his morning's Instagram picture appeared, a circle around his bare fingers on his left hand. Next to it was a close up of of James' ring, then of Harry at that time, who was wearing a pair of black leather gloves. Great.

 

Alastair read the article twice, getting the general gist of the situation. Apparently James was cheating on him and was really engaged to Harry Hart – Alastair snorted at the idea and went onto his twitter instead to start reading the barrage of comments.

 

Alastair was getting a fair few hundred messages, from support after this 'horrific events' to being called 'unworthy' of James at all, and 'deserving' of James cheating on him. Alastair rolled his eyes and came off twitter, going onto his directory and calling James instead.

 

James' phone vibrated against his ass, and he de-tangled himself from Harry, leaving the other to watch trading places as he slipped away into the kitchenette to take his phone call.

 

“Hey Allie, what's up?” James greeted, strolling into Harry's kitchen and leaning on the wall casually. Alastair sighed and began to make his way to the bathroom for a damn bath because he was not in the mood to deal with this bullshit media right now.

 

“Are you cheating on me and secretly engaged to Harry behind my back in a grievous betrayal?” Alastair asked, jokingly, despite talking in a completely emotionless deadpan. There was a beat of almost comical silence before James spoke with a confused tone to his voice.

 

“What the actual fuck? No I'm not, what's going on?” James asked. Alastair shrugged despite the fact that James couldn't actually see him.

 

“Read the news love, Merlin's going to skin us when he gets back. I say we lay low till then.” With that, Alastair began to fill his bath, turning the hot tap on full blast. On the other end of the phone, a rather confused James gave a vague “Okay.” sound before hanging up.

 

Alastair turned to his and James (really rather extensive) bath product range, settling on a basic lush butterball bath bomb and dropping it into the bath before going back to checking his various social media sights as it fizzed. As he was reading a tweet about how some girl wished  _'@JamesSpencer had cheated on @PercivalOfKingsman with me!'_ Alastair got a text from James.

 

_'YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING WITH ME'_

 

It was directly followed by _'You were right, let's leave this for Merlin.'_

 

Alastair stopped the taps and fired back a quick text before flipping his phone on silent and putting it across the room, out of reach while he was in the bath.

 

_'True that, we're so fucked.'_

 


	13. "JAMES LOUIS FREDRICK FITZWILLIAM SPENCER,"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is, rather understandably, pissed at the two, and James' love for David Bowie finally gets a mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, credit to borsival-gives-me-life and dolly-bassett for all the help (and agent-elaine for the bit about Harry's nephew since she wondered what happened).
> 
> Again as always, please let me know what you think of this all!

James was laying bodily across the sofa, feet propped up on Alastair's lap, the writers computer balancing on top of James' legs carefully as he typed. James was scrolling down his twitter on his Ipad, responding to fans and blocking haters as he came across them (Honestly, the amount of homophobes on twitter never ceased to amaze him). Across the room, a old David Bowie record was quietly scratching away in the background, almost tuned out by the two men as they focused on their own things and enjoyed each others company.

 

James frowned as his screen cut to a shade of blue, a icon of Merlin's face appearing as he received a skype call from the Agent. James flicked the volume up on his Ipad and nudged his ankle into Alastair's leg to get his attention as he clicked accept.

 

“JAMES LOUIS FREDERICK FITZWILLIAM SPENCER,” Merlin's voice came over the Ipad speakers, ringing out in the previously peaceful room and destroying the atmosphere. “WHAT THE HELL?” 

 

Alastair closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, closing his laptop with a small click and placing it on the floor by his feet. James swung his feet off of Alastair's lap with a groan, sitting up next to his partner so they were pressed side to side, James tucking his feet under him and holding the Ipad out.

 

“And you Alastair, I expected better ya cheeky sod!” Merlin's heated gaze turned to Alastair as he yelled. The author at least had the decency to hang his head in shame, blushing a little in embarrassment. Merlin hardly ever scolded him, so he felt bad enough as it was – Merlin knew that though, and took a few breaths to calm himself and revert back to a reasonable volume.

 

“I'm sorry Merlin, I really didn't think they'd notice.” Alastair was the first of the lovers to speak, fiddling with the cuff of his shirt like a schoolboy in trouble with the head. Merlin's expression softened ever so slightly at the sight.

 

The agent pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long sigh. It was hard to be mad at Alastair sometimes, the poor man really did try so hard not to screw up.

 

James, on the other hand, was a lot easier to be pissed off at.

 

“You two owe me big time, the Daily Mail is on my ass constantly for a comment and you two are going to fix this. James, you've got a interview tonight on some late night chat show to fix your shit.” Merlin instructed, looking down at his own Ipad and tapping across it speedily. A few seconds later James' phone pinged, the details about his interview tonight lighting up the screen in a series of texts from Merlin.

 

“Why do I have to fix it?” James grumbled, reaching across Alastair to retrieve his phone from the side table, scrolling through the locations and times. It wasn't too bad, he'd met the interviewer a few times before, she was a nice chick all things considered. James was more of a fan of Stephen King, but Amelia was still pretty good.

 

“Because I like Alastair more.” Merlin said simply, rolling his eyes behind his glasses at James. James turned to Alastair and stuck his tongue out – managing to look remarkably like a small child in the process. Alastair slapped James' arm lightly in return, nodding at Merlin.

 

“Okay, but in my defence, Harry really needed me after the whole Charlie thing.” James replied with a serious tone, frowning. Merlin nodded in agreement, face going more sombre. Alastair did much the same thing, all having a unanimous moment of silence for Charlie's memory.

 

“Aye, that's true, he was a prick, but he never deserved that.” Merlin finally said, shattering the peace in a much calmer, more contained manner. Charlie, Harry's nephew, had been in a train accident last week – fell on the tracks and got hit – James had found out when he got to Harry's that Charlie had passed away that morning, much to Harry's horror.

 

“Tell me about it.” James replied, while Alastair just gave a firm nod instead of verbal input.

 

“Anyways, James, please dress presentably, we don't want a repeat of that interview back in May.” Merlin ordered, before muttering something that sounded quite like “I never had this shit from Colin Firth.” before hanging up on the couple without so much as a goodbye.

 

James imitated Merlin in a high pitched tone, faking a terrible Scottish accent and rising to his feet. Alastair was right behind him, leaning on the arm of the chair for support and slowly beginning to rise. James was at his side in a heartbeat, offering the crook of his arm to Alastair for support.

 

Alastair took it without hesitation, leaning on James slightly as they made their way to the bedroom to actually get dressed into something respectable. (and by respectable, he meant getting James out of a shirt with a faded picture of Godzilla on it pronto.) Alastair was also aware that, wile he loved his pajama bottoms, he ought to get changed too.

 

Although, they still had a few hours before they needed to go out, and it seemed James had a few of his own plans.

 

 


	14. "Give us your side of the story?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James let's the world know he' still head over heels for his little fusspot Percy, Amelia appears at last and Percy ends up looking like he just read the worlds cutest fanfic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, any comments/reviews/stuff would seriously make my week! Credit to Dolly-Bassett and borsival-gives me life for all their help too :D

“Please welcome my next guest, James Spencer!” Amelia announced. She was some young TV host, smiling brightly at the camera and holding a arm out to the side. James appeared in the doorway she was motioning at, waving at the crowd and camera as he walked into the room.

 

On meeting Amelia, he accepted her outstretched hand, shaking and giving her a kiss on the cheek for good measure before sinking onto the guests sofa. The audience were clapping like crazy, but James could feel more than see that a fair number of the crowd were glaring at him. He was pissed of course that they were glaring, but he did like that they stood up for the higher moral ground. A cheater is a cheater, if they're a celebrity or not.

 

“So, James, it's nice to have you back so soon.” Amelia started, smiling somewhat forcibly at James and the camera. It looked pretty realistic though, and only knowing Amelia off-set meant he could tell at all she was putting it on for the viewers.

 

“Simply couldn't get enough of your beautiful face darling.” James replied, waving a hand as he spoke to gesture downwards at her. She laughed, blushing ever so slightly underneath her oh so carefully done make-up.

 

“Oh stop it. There are more important things for us to talk about today, like this big scandal that's been hanging above your shoulders all week.” With her words as a cue, the screen behind James and Amelia lit up with a slide show of several newspaper and gossip mag headlines, all featuring the apparent affair. One caught his eye and caused James to laugh.

 

A copy of OK had the headline 'James Spencer leaves Percival Hart-broken.' splashed across the front, accompanied with a picture of the three from several years ago. James had his arm around Harry's shoulders and was laughing – cackling would be a better description really – while Alastair was sat on a chair next to them, frowning.

 

In reality, that picture had been taken on set when James had made a particularly bad pun about the name Lancelot to the two men. It was all so cliché and out of context that it was hilariously funny.

 

“That's golden, I swear this whole thing was made up to make puns out of Harry's name.” James joked as the screen stopped and the spotlights moved back to himself and Amelia. She faked a surprised look, drawing the audience back into the gossip part of the show.

 

“So you're not in a relationship with Harry?” She asked, raising a eyebrow. There was a loud murmur from the crowd, some applause, some booing, it was hard to tell it all apart. James waited for it to run it's course, letting them have their whispering time to each other before answering. 

 

“He's a very close friend of mine and nothing more.” James confirmed, clasping his hands together in his lap and nodding as he spoke. Emphasis was put on nothing as James dragged out the words, stressing each syllable. He knew the camera was panning the audience right now, taking in the mixed reactions of them all instead of focusing on the stage for a second.

 

“Care to extrapolate then? Give us your side of the story?” Amelia pressed once the camera was back on them. James shrugged and sat up straighter in his seat, unfolding his hands from each other so he could use them as he spoke.

 

“Well they got some stuff right, that is a engagement ring.” James lifted his hand up and turned it so the back was in front of his face, letting the camera crew easily get a close up of the simple silver band on life left ring finger. James waggled his fingers jokingly before moving his hand back down out of the way.

 

“I proposed to Percival Tuesday, when I got back from filming my fair lady.” There was the flash of several audience members taking photos, no doubt about to put them on twitter or some such social media. Amelia clapped her hands together, squealing “congratulations!” as she did so before putting a hand on James' forearm, patting it.

 

James ducked his head and blushed, grinning somewhat cockily even as he did so. “Thank you. It was all very romantic. As for the rings, Percy isn't wearing one because we'd just woken up, and he decided not to wear it to bed because he's a endearing nut-case. As for me leaving at god knows what time to see Harry, that was the day his nephew Charlie passed away in that tragic train accident, so it's understandable he wanted company.” James explained, speaking with his hands as he motioned along with his words.

 

Amelia made a sympathetic sound in the back of her throat, nodding yet again – god, why did TV hosts always nod so much on these shows – at what James said. The crowd were going haywire, and it took almost a minute to get them to shush enough to carry on the interview.

 

Back at home, Alastair was curled up on the sofa, a large fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his computer balanced on his lap. He had started writing some more of the latest book, intending to get at least another page or so written, but the interview had distracted him a fair bit

 

He was very focused on how happy James had looked when he talked about him, and it sent a warm feeling to Alastair's stomach and caused a smile to plant itself firmly on his face.

 


	15. "Alastair is everything I never knew I wanted."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James wins another award, and shows Alastair just how much he loves him. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there, as always, credit to Dolly-Bassett and Borsival-gives-me-life! Feedback is seriously appreciated too - I'm not sure how I felt undertaking something so long by my usual standards, I think this has dragged and flopped a little.

“Stop fiddling with your tie James.” Alastair muttered, good leg bouncing nervously as the limo drove down the street. If he was this nervous, he had no idea how bad James must feel – he was the one actually up for one of the worlds biggest awards tonight, after all.

 

James was sat on the edge of his seat opposite Alastair, fiddling with his tie again and again, ironing out non-existent creases with his hands out of nerves. When Alastair scolded him, James dropped his hands, holding them together tightly and trying not to fiddle with anything else.

 

Alastair let out a small sigh, reaching across the small distance between them and wrapping his hands around James own, lifting them up to his lips and kissing James' palm. James blushed slightly but still relaxed slightly, a small amount of tension bleeding out of his shoulders. He had Alastair with him, and that was all he really needed to get through the night.

 

The limo began to pull to a slow, graceful stop. Even through the tinted windows, Both men could sense all the camera's going off and the anticipation from the people outside over who was arriving now. Alastair let go of James' hands and shuffled back to let him get out first – it was his night to shine, after all.

 

James opened the door and slid out, almost oblivious to the flashing of camera's and screaming of fans behind him as he turned and offered a hand to Alastair to help him out of the limo. Alastair was far less graceful then James, cane going out first before he gingerly took James' hand and half pulled himself out of the limo.

 

It was hectic. The carpet was actually red, barriers keeping the magnitude of press to the sides of the carpet, all attention focused on the two of them as James shut the limo door behind them and turned, once more offering the crook of his elbow to Alastair. Alastair accepted it gratefully, thankful for the extra balance as they headed down the red carpet together, James at the forefront.

 

He was smiling and grinning at everyone, throwing it a few waves and winks for some of the camera's as he went, seeming perfectly at ease with it all. Alastair stuck close to his side, a small smile fixed on his face. He mainly kept his eyes on either the carpet or James, love in his eyes at how happy James was in the midst of all of this.

 

Alastair hated this part of the events, if it were just him he would've arrived with a crowd and walked fast; but James loved it, and Alastair would never rain on his parade like that.

 

The couple eventually made their way to their seats, sitting down and looking around the room. Richmond was here somewhere with Gazelle, but neither James or Alastair had seen them yet. Across the room, in the middle of conversation with a few older women and men in stuffy suits, Harry Hart was talking away, oblivious to his friends even coming into the room.

 

James smiled and kissed Alastair's cheek, wrapping a arm around his shoulders and pulling him closer. Alastair went willingly, cuddling up against his fiancé with a satisfied look, one hand curled around and barely gripping the side of James' jacket.

 

They stayed that way up until James' category came up, 'Best lead male'. They started to show the clips from the possible winners, while James removed his arm from the back of Alastair's chair to fiddle with his cuffs once more out of nerves. Alastair mirrored his first action in the car, wrapping a hand over both of James own to still them.

 

The room sat with baited breath as the results were announced.

 

“James Spencer!” The host called, sending the room into spontaneous applause. Alastair clapped as hard as he could, smiling so wide his face hurt. James was somehow smiling even wider, half in shock, eyes going wide. He sat still for a second before it really hit him, getting to his feet. Before he had even taken a step to go up, he was holding a arm out for Alastair again.

 

“Come up with me? Please?” James asked in a small voice, drowned out by the crowds insane applause. Alastair was about to refuse when he saw how James' hands were shaking with nerves.

 

“Of course.” Alastair got to his feet and took the arm, hobbling slightly with his cane as he tried to use it in time with his fast footsteps up to the front of the room. When they reached the top of the small staircase, James let go of Alastair arm and span so they were face to face.

 

Alastair's eyebrows knit together for a second, unsure what James was trying to do, before his balance was thrown backwards. James had grabbed him around the waist and pushed him back, essentially dipping him in front of everyone.

 

There was a series of wolf-whistles around the room as James kissed him, holding the author up the entire time before swinging them both upright once more. Alastair let out a small 'oh' sound before James was dragging his across the stage to get his award, a hyper dog in a china shop that man.

 

The host raised a eyebrow at the flustered Alastair but otherwise didn't comment, just stepping to the side to let both men stand in front of the microphone. James kissed Alastair's cheek again before addressing the crowd.

 

“I just – wow, okay, I actually didn't prepare a speech today, was positive I wasn't going to win.” James admitted freely, earning a chuckle from around the room. Harry was full on snickering behind his hand, biting his tongue to stop from drawing attention to himself by crooning with laughter.

 

“Just thank you all so much, this is such a honour. I'm a really lucky person, I really am. I do a job I adore, I have every opportunity, the best of friends, a stalker named Harry Hart who won't leave me alone,” James joked, pointing at Harry with a wink. Harry laughed louder than most of the crowd and brushed it off with a motion of the hand.

 

“I got so much of this because I'm privileged, I've had more chances than so many people who deserve them, I don't know why I was that lucky, but I was.” James continued, getting slightly more serious again.

 

“But there's one thing I do know. I've got the most wonderful, loving partner I could ever ask for.” He took Alastair's hand and laced their fingers together, turning to look at Alastair with adoration, smile turning soft.

 

“Alastair is everything I never knew I wanted. Never knew I needed, but I can't imagine life without him any more. Allie, I love you.” James admitted, soppy and romantic as the crowd made 'aww' sounds at the couple on stage. Tears prickled in the corner of Alastair's eye as he threw himself forwards, wrapping his arms around James' neck in a tight hug.

 

“I love you too you soppy twat.” Alastair muttered into his ear before pulling back, linking hands again as they left the stage to one of the loudest applause of the night, still head over heels for each other.

 


	16. "Love."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A happily ever after isn't just for fairytales - at least not for these precious little MurderPuppies anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is the end of a saga for me! Honestly, this was my first multi-chapter fic on AO3, and I'm really quite sad to see the end of it, and I might make some additional ficlets for it maybe? I don't know if anyone would like to read those (or has any suggestions maybe) ??
> 
> As always, thanks to Dolly-Bassett and Borsival gives me life for all the help with this, you guys are legends!

_Galahad shuffled a fraction closer to Lancelot, their arms pressing against each other and fingers interlinked; Galahad rested his head on Lancelot's shoulder, looking out into the sky surrounding them. From the bridge they were sat on, they had a view of the carnage that had happened after V-day, the fires still blazing and smoke staining the streets a hazy grey._

 

_But above the chaos; lingering above the destruction and pain, the sky was clear, starts glittering in the inky night sky like beacons of hope._

 

“ _Where do we go now?” Galahad asked, turning his head slightly to look at Lancelot the best he could from his current position. Lancelot was silent for a while, thinking, before leaning back and staring into the perfect sky._

_  
“Where we always go I guess. Onwards.” Lancelot finally replied, squeezing Galahad's hand._

 

Alastair heard the sound of the front door opening and clicked his laptop shut, grabbing his cane and racing down the stairs as fast as was safe, not caring in that moment about his dignity or how bad he looked.

 

“James!” At the bottom of the stairs, James had just got in after being away a week for his press tour, half way through taking off him jacket and unwinding his scarf. When he heard Alastair his hands dropped from the scarf, instead reaching out as Alastair all but flung himself into James' arms, kissing him.

 

James grinned, pecking Alastair's nose and picking him up, spinning him around in the corridor three times before setting him back on his feet. Alastair grinned and leaned forwards, pressing them chest to chest, millimetres between their lips.

 

“Welcome back love.” Alastair said, hugging James tightly like it had been years, when in fact it had only been a week since they had last seen each other in the flesh. James didn't seem to mind, burying his face in Alastair's hair and showering his partner with kisses.

 

“It's good to be back where I belong.” James replied easily, moving a hand to Alastair's chin and forcing him to look up with a small tug, claiming his partners mouth once again as he toed his shoes off in the process.

 

As they kissed, a random thought crossed Alastair's mind.

 

_Maybe happy endings weren't only reserved for book characters._

 


End file.
